


wonderful tonight

by crunchrapsupreme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 80's AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean makes a quiet noise of confusion and annoyance at their makeout session getting cut short, but he reaches out and takes Marco’s hand, letting the taller boy tug him off the hood of the car and pull him close to his chest. The lyrics start up, and Marco slides a hand down to wrap around Jean’s waist, the other hand coming up to link with Jean’s fingers, and the shorter teen flushes a bit as he realizes what Marco’s doing.</p><p>“Really?” Jean says incredulously, raising an eyebrow, but his voice is soft.</p><p>“That mix tape you gave me last year?" Marco says, smiling softly. "This was the first song on it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	wonderful tonight

**Author's Note:**

> i was listening to my oldies playlist and got inspired to write a lil drabble of 80's boyfriends slow dancing and being hella gay together 
> 
> the song they're dancing to is [Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwprrAEL9-E)  
> which i recommend listening to while you read 8)
> 
> [also on tumblr o0o0o0o](http://bottombitchbucky.tumblr.com/post/88485734378/wonderful-tonight-80s-au-jean-marco)   
> 

The beginning of March is chilly, the tail end of winter just beginning to die out, and Jean shivers, tugging his jean jacket tighter around himself and exhaling the smoke from his cigarette slowly, watching the licks of grey curl up towards the clouds, and when it clears, he sees Marco walking towards him, hands shoved in his pockets, collared shirt peeking out of a forest green sweater.

He grins and taps the end of his cigarette, the ashes crumbling off the end before taking another hit, the ember burning bright, and when Marco finally approaches him, rocking back on the balls of his feet, the first thing he says is,

“That crap’s gonna kill you some day.”

There’s no real venom in his voice, because it’s a mostly dead argument between them, but Marco still loves to point it out whenever he can. Jean rolls his eyes, taking one last inhale before tossing the butt onto the grass, stubbing it out with the heel of his chucks.

“You know what kills people, Marco?”

Marco raises an eyebrow, leaning against the brick wall of the school building. Scattered groups of cliques surround them; on the stairs of the front of the school building, along the walls, sitting in the grass, all waiting for the first morning bell to ring to start off the day.

Jean tucks his lighter back into his front pocket and says, “The government, dude. That’s what fuckin’ kills people.”

Marco rolls his eyes again, bumping Jean in the shoulder, and the sound of the morning bell going off, signalling the short five minutes they have to get to first period, causes Jean to slump against Marco and let out a low groan.

Marco reaches up and pets Jean’s hair gently. “I know,” he murmurs.

“School makes me want to step on all my Fleetwood Mac albums and then shove the shards through my eyeballs,” Jean whines, and his breath is warm where it hits Marco’s neck. “And you _know_ how much I love Stevie Nicks.”

Marco pats him comfortingly again, and when a wadded up gum wrapper hits Jean square in the forehead, he shoots up from his place on Marco’s shoulder and glares daggers at a laughing brunette, jogging up the stairs to the school, backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Get bent, Jaeger!” Jean calls out, and Eren flips him off before disappearing into the doors of the school. Jean sighs, crossing his arms petulantly. “Let’s ditch.”

Marco steps away from the wall, ruffling Jean’s hair a bit before reaching down to pick up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. “C’mon, Jean. We’re gonna be late to first period.”

“I’m serious!” Jean says, stepping away from the wall and reaching up to grip Marco’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s totally ditch.”

Marco frowns, Jean’s hands warm and heavy on his shoulders, and Jean’s looking at him with these wide, pleading eyes, and fuck, Marco’s always loved the color of his eyes, soft and subtle but so, so stark against the pale skin of Jean’s face, sharp and magnetic. Marco’s not really surprised he fell for Jean in the first place, because Jean’s like a life force, sucking Marco in and not holding back. Marco can’t really say he minds.

He stays silent though, still hesitant, and Jean sighs and steps a little closer, eyes darting around to make sure the other students have already gone inside.

“We can go to our secret spot?”

His voice is soft, and when Marco finally lets out a defeated sigh, Jean grins and darts forward, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before reaching down to grab his bag. There’s chipped black nail polish on his nails, and as his hand swings at his side, Marco bites his lip at the pull in his chest that makes him want to link their fingers and hold on tight.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and follows Jean to his car.

\--

The sky is clear, not a cloud in sight, and Jean leans against the door of the car, windows rolled down even though the air blowing in is cool. Jean’s always liked the breeze on his face, though, so Marco doesn’t say anything as goosebumps rise on his skin. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel to whatever song Jean switched to on the radio, and Jean hums quietly beside him.

The spot isn’t exactly secret, to be honest, but Marco and Jean always tend to go there when no one else is there, so it feels like they’re the only ones in the world. It feels like a void universe, the only sound is the wind blowing through the trees, and as Marco pulls up and parks his car at the edge of the hill, Jean’s already getting out, sliding onto the hood before Marco’s even turned the car off.

Jean leans back against the windshield, hands behind his head, and Marco stares at the short dark hairs at the nape of his neck, the disheveled blonde locks on top fluttering in the breeze. Marco can see his roots, and Jean’ll probably re-dye it again soon. He always has Marco do it for him, saying he can’t get all of his roots by himself. Marco has seen him do it himself before perfectly fine, but he doesn’t say anything, always just grinning and slipping on a pair of latex gloves as Jean bites his lip on a smile.

Marco turns the keys one click in the ignition so the radio can still play, and he slips one of the mix tapes he made a few months ago into the cassette player. He presses rewind, and once the tape clicks and starts playing, Marco finally gets out after rolling down the windows so the music flows out.

Jean’s eyes are closed when Marco climbs onto the hood of the car next to him, and there’s already another cigarette between Jean’s lips, the smoke flowing lazily up from his parted lips. Marco lies down, scooting over so their shoulders are pressed together, and he automatically reaches down and links his fingers with Jean’s. His fingers are cold from the breeze, but between them both, their hands are already starting to warm up.

Jean’s lips quirk up, his eyes remaining closed as he gives Marco’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Wish we could just stay here forever.”

Marco hums in agreement, bringing Jean’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles, and Jean finally opens his eyes, turning his head to the side. Their noses press together, and when Marco darts forward, pressing their lips together, they both breathe out a quiet sigh. Jean tastes like nicotine and maple syrup from the pancakes he ate that morning, and Marco licks into his mouth slowly, shuffling so he’s on his side. He reaches a hand down to grip Jean’s hip, running his thumb along the strip of skin that’s been exposed from his shirt riding up, and Jean shivers against him.

Jean fists a hand in the front of Marco’s shirt, and right as it’s getting a little heated, Marco hears the familiar opening notes of one of his favorite songs. Marco pulls back slightly, Jean whining in protest, and Jean’s lips are red and shiny with spit. Even though the sight is inviting, Marco hops off the hood of the car, holding a hand out to Jean, grinning widely.

Jean makes a quiet noise of confusion and annoyance at their makeout session getting cut short, but he reaches out and takes Marco’s hand, letting the taller boy tug him off the hood and pull him close to his chest. The lyrics start up, and Marco slides a hand down to wrap around Jean’s waist, the other hand coming up to link with Jean’s fingers, and the shorter teen flushes a bit as he realizes what Marco’s doing.

“Really?” Jean says incredulously, raising an eyebrow, but his voice is soft.

“That mix tape you gave me last year? This was the first song on it.”

Jean lets out a low whistle. “Shit, that was _way_ back, before we were even going steady.” He let’s out a quiet laugh. “I don’t even remember what I put on that piece of crap tape. ”

“It wasn’t a piece a crap,” Marco says, tightening his hold on Jean’s waist and drawing him in closer. Jean reaches up a hand to grip Marco’s shoulder, leaning his cheek against him, and his breath ghosts out softly against the side of Marco’s neck. Marco smiles softly, swaying them gently to the music. “I loved it. Listened to it almost every night until I asked you to be mine.”

Jean snorts quietly but feels heat creep up his neck, closing his eyes and slipping his hand out of Marco’s in order to wrap both arms around Marco’s shoulders, burying his face in the crook of the taller boy’s neck.

Marco fists the back of Jean’s jacket, pressing his lips to Jean’s temple, and his chest aches, swelling up and throbbing perfectly as he breathes in Jean’s scent. Smoke and cologne and sweet musk from his body wash. Familiar. Comforting.

Clapton’s voice fades out finally, and Marco stops swaying, reaching up a hand to run through Jean’s hair. The song changes to something a little more upbeat, but they stay where they are, and when Jean pulls away from his place tucked in Marco’s shoulder, he immediately closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the corner of Marco’s mouth, breathing shakily. Marco tilts his head to slot their mouths together fully, and Jean raises up on his tiptoes just enough to slip his tongue into Marco’s mouth, swallowing his noises of approval.

The breeze blows around them, the sound whistling through the leaves of the trees, and they stay there until the cassette tape clicks and goes silent. 


End file.
